


Pretty Woman

by ravenpuff1956



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, F/M, Fallen Charcters, Forbidden Love, Infidelity, Lord Colin, Married Colin, Working Girl Penelope, dark story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenpuff1956/pseuds/ravenpuff1956
Summary: Penelope truly never thought she'd see Colin again.Nor did she want to.She doesn't want any of her old acquaintances seeing her like this.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Marina Thompson, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 61
Kudos: 160





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!!
> 
> I saw this prompt, of Penelope being a prostitute, on tumblr ages ago and something about the idea just stuck. I tried to find the original post, but for the life of me I couldn't, so big kudos to the person that inspired this!! 
> 
> So this fic is about Penelope's family falling so far she has become a girl on the streets. It will be a pretty dark, gritty fic, so if anyone is not into that or this idea, feel free not to read if you don't want to. 
> 
> But for those who do- hi, and I hope you enjoy!!

“ _Shit_ ,” Penelope swears lightly under her breath, as her foot slides into a puddle. 

It’s not very ladylike.

But then- she’s not a lady anymore.

“Dammit,” Penelope winces, shaking her foot. The soft, old leather immediately soaked through. It’s the only pair she’s got left. 

She continues to walk briskly, though much more carefully, down the alley to work. Some of her fellow friends are already lingering outside, chatting and smoking and smiling blankly at strangers who waltz past interestedly. 

Penelope greets a few she’s friends with, and puts money in the hands of others. 

Things are always tight, but together they’re getting by. 

The lights of Mrs Lambersham's brothel are already shining. Light laughter, both male and female, already sing out from inside. As does the sound of rustic, poorly tuned piano. Penelope ducks round the back, to the door all working girls use. 

“Penelope,” The strong man of their establishment greets her with a curt nod.

“Mr Kush,” Penelope greets him back, tugging her dark hood down. 

“Stay safe tonight girl,” Mr Kush says in his gruff way, before opening the door.

“I always do,” Penelope thinks ruefully to the blade she has hidden in her garters. It was unfortunately a necessary trick to learn. Men often don’t listen to the word ‘no’ unless a knife is pressed to their neck. 

The change rooms are hidden behind the main lounge. Faster to get changed if you skirt rips or a strap of your shoe breaks. And most importantly; an easier exit if things go tits up. 

Old dirty mirrors make a ring around the room, and yellow lanterns burn low around them, as women in cheap dresses paint on rogue.

“Pen!” Her best friend Dorothy, waves wildly at her from where she’s sitting crossed legged on the floor. 

Her dirty blonde hair still hangs down her back. Her dress is made of old red velvet, and shows off her able bosom, while easily hiding her small pox scars. 

“Dottie,” Penelope smiles, picking over mismatched shoes and empty bottles to embrace her, “How is it out there tonight?” 

“Busy as all hell,” Siena sighs, overhearing their conversation, “Some rich fellas birthday,” Infamous as Anthony Bridgerton’s old mistress. She was recently kicked out by her most recent rich boyfriend after getting pregnant. 

Penelope judges Siena’s small bump; barely noticeable, on first glance at least. Although after the business with Marina Penelope knows it won’t be long until she’ll be banished from the theatre. She offered to raise her some money, but Siena insisted on keeping the bub. 

“Plenty of dirt to dig up then,” Dottie smiles mischievously. 

“‘Bout time too,” Siena smiles sympathetically, “Sarah’s got one in the oven,” She sits her hand on her stomach.

The three women exchange concerned looks. The money she’s making from Lady Whistledown goes to a lot more than just paying her rent and helping out her new found friends. 

Getting her fellow girls the proper medical help they need has become one of Penelope’s top priorities. Doctors, for the right price, will give out needed medication and checkups that will save their lives and livelihoods.

“The next addition of Lady W comes out on the weekend,“ Penelope says, doing some quick calculations in her head, “If we get something good tonight they’ll be plenty for a good doctor,”

“Not to mention something to pay his silence,” Siena rolls her eyes irritably, fiddling with her dress. 

“Come on Pen,” Dottie slaps the grounds shortly in front of her, smiling in a much more cheerful manner, “I’ll do your hair,” 

Penelope does her best to push the issue of money out of her mind, and slides in front of her friend.

She almost doesn’t recognise the face in front of the mirror anymore. Her cheeks are hollow, her eyes tired, her skin pasty. 

Dottie undoes her hair from it’s pins, and it still tumbles in familiar red curls over her shoulders. 

“You look beautiful,” Dottie whispers kindly in her ear.

Penelope looks away from herself and does her best to smile. 

\--------------------------------------

The night is hot and busy. Men from all walks of life clutter into the squashed establishment, and Penelope finds herself picking over peoples feet as she delivers various drinks. Her main job- and her job tonight is bartending; not only does she have a chance to pick up Ton gossip, but girls can easily come over to whisper tit-bits in her ear. 

A man grabs her arse, the cheap and Penelope does her best to smile through it. 

For her entire life she's felt like she's just smiled through things- now even more so. 

Penelope is gathering up some old, grimy glasses to rinse, when a blood curdling scream screeches out from the top of the rickety staircase. 

“Sarah?” Penelope calls out worriedly, as one of her friends comes tearing down the stairs, her make up running in black streams down her face. Her yellow lacy dress is half undone, and her lipstick is smudged. 

“ _Bloody bastard_ ,” Sarah swears loud enough for other patrons to turn around and stare, “He just kicked me out after I’d already started,” A few men erupt into laughter, and Sarah’s eyes brim with tears and she runs out the back to the changing room. 

“I’ll go after her,” Siena offers, dropping the bottle of scotch she’s holding and racing after her. 

Penelope exchanges a worried look with Dottie, who is sitting on one of their regulars laps. 

The lady in charge of their establishment does not take kindly to her girls making themselves look like fools in front of the paying customers. 

Penelope meets Mrs Lambersham’s eyes. Her boss was eyeing the situation with a cool gaze. The woman is largely built, with steel grey hair, she powers a bright white. Fake diamonds hang round her neck and wrists. Her smile is as tempting as medusa’s, her eyes as fierce as snakes.

The other girls call her harsh, but fair. Penelope agrees. She’s in no way the motherly figure she’s been looking for. But at least Mrs L compliments her when it’s due, and admonishes equally fairly, which is more than she can say for her real Mama. And she’s never been late for a pay day. 

However when Mrs Lambersham’s eyes narrow at her, Penelope can tell she shouldn’t have looked. 

“Featherington,” Mrs Lambersham snaps her fingers at her, before pointing up the stairs, “Room 5,” 

Penelope’s stomach turns. She’s managed to escape selling herself on a regular basis. For some girls, like Dottie, it’s their main job. But Penelope’s skills as a writer, and jig as a waitress keeps her out of the upstairs bedrooms. 

However on the rare occasion there is no escape. 

“I’m not on tonight Mrs Lambersham,” Penelope does her best to keep her voice from whining. Mrs Lambersham hates a girl being a baby. 

“Now you are,” Mrs Lambersham’s voice offers no argument, “The man’s already kicked out Sarah and the fools already gone and given us double pay,” 

Penelope bites the inside of her cheek. Money always wins over in this business unfortunately. 

“Why me?” Penelope asks lightly, desperately hoping there is another girl that matches the man’s fantasy more than she does. 

“He’s after someone virginal looking apparently,” Mrs L’s nose wrinkles, and Penelope’s crudely reminded of the blood thirsty Mama’s who joked about 'light skirts', “You’re just the ticket,” 

Penelope clasps her hands together, trying to pretend she can’t feel the sheen of nervous sweat that covers her skin. She believes she keeps up a good act. She kept her head held high when they had to sell their house, when Phillipa got sick. Even when she came to the conclusion prostitution was her only way out of her poverty- Penelope maintained her strength.

But the first time she was left alone with a sweaty, lustful man. That’s when the cracks begin to form.

She never liked her life before. But Penelope’s only realised now, how lucky she truly was. 

To live without fear of where her next meal was coming from, to living day by day on bread and butter. From when money was something only her Papa dealt with, to sleeping with her life's savings under her pillow. And for sex being something foreign, a secret act, she didn’t know existed, to an ever present danger, which both hurt her new found friends and paid the bills. 

“Do I _have_ to?” Penelope tries one last time, crossing her fingers. 

Lady Lambersham gives her a look, that if she squinted could almost be taken for empathy. 

“I appreciate the extra money you’ve made for this place girl,” Lady L says as kindly as Penelope’s ever heard her speak, “But you’re being employed by me, so yes, you do have to,” 

  
The great lady walks away, back to her desk, and Penelope grits her teeth before taking the long, long walk up the stairs and to the dreaded Room 5.   
  


' _Hopefully he'll just kick me out too, and nothing will happen,_ ' Penelope thinks half-heartedly. But she knows deep down that isn't likely. The man has paid for a service and he'll want to receive it. 

Penelope knocks lightly, before squeezing herself nervously through the door. A green gentleman's coat lies on the floor. A expensive looking white shirt and brown suspenders trail their way over to the uncomfortable looking double bed like a snake skin 

A man sits shirtless on the lumpy mattress, his elbows leaning on his knees. 

The air in Penelope’s lungs leaves her. 

His dark hair is cut shorter, and a slight stubble graces his chin. 

But although it's been almost two years, she’d recognize Colin Bridgerton anywhere. As well as the significance golden ring on his finger. 

Heart in her mouth, Penelope clumsily tries to escape. But the floorboards squeak beneath her feet and it’s too late as his ears perk up.

“About time,” Colin says, his voice tired and hard, “You’re not 'up the duff' too, are you?”

He turns round. Penelope is frozen to the spot, as his blue eyes blink at her. Colin’s mouth falls open in shock and surprise, and Penelope wants to die of shame. 

Gentleman he still is.

Lady she certainly isn't’. 

“Pen?” Colin croaks in disbelief. 

Penelope bobs a quick curtsey on impulse, wishing she could subtly rub the outlandish ruby red lipstick off her lips. 

“Hello Colin,” Penelope greets him awkwardly, wincing as she realises she should really not be using his given name.

“ _What? Why?_ ” Colin stands stuttering, seemingly equally self-conscious, “I thought- I mean we _heard_ \- you and your family had moved to the continent,” 

Penelope blushes, and she twists her sweaty hands together. 

She’d gotten half a dozen letters from Marina. And what felt like a hundred letters from Eloise. 

Penelope sent vague notes at first. She couldn’t quite say her family was living in a damp, dirty share-house full of dysentery and death, but she could say she was well and not to worry. 

But as Penelope fell deeper, her replies got shorter, and finally with a heavy heart she stopped replying at all. 

Eventually, at least Marina’s letters stopped coming. 

“I’m afraid we feel quite a bit more than that my lord,” Penelope says with a rueful smile, which Colin doesn’t return. 

His large hands reach out to grab the sheet off the bed to cover himself, even though his pants are still on his body. Penelope almost laughs out loud. Like she hasn’t seen worse? 

Although it does concern her that he looks like he’s lost ten pounds, since she last saw him. Is married life not suiting him, just as she feared?

“How is your wife?” Penelope asks softly against her better judgement, “And your... daughter?” 

At her words Colin’s light eyes turn dark, and his Adam apples bobs tremendously. 

“Marina, I believe, is well,” Colin talks as if he does not know if his wife is coming or going. 

“Katherine is…” Colin brightens up a little, although his mouth is still grim, “A feisty little thing,” 

Penelope does her best to not look smug. She took him aside once, what now feels like a million years ago. But Colin did not head her advice; he was determined to marry Marina. 

She could have exposed her cousin. Set her pen to paper and told the whole world Marina was already pregnant. 

However when it came down to it, Penelope just _couldn’t._

The love of her life and her cousin ran off to Gretna Green undeterred. 

By the time Mr and Mrs Bridgerton returned from their honeymoon, the Featheringtons had disappeared from society, never to surface again.

Penelope truly thought she would never see Colin again. 

Nor did she want to. 

She doesn’t want any of her old acquaintances to see her like this. 

A common whore. 

Penelope’s foot taps restlessly on the moldy looking floorboards. She has done many things in the past years she’d never thought she’d do in her lifetime. 

Having sex with a man she loves only because he paid for her is not one of them.

Especially as Penelope is sure, she is not Colin’s idea of a fantasy. 

“I will go find another girl for you Mr Bridgerton,” Penelope does her best to sound professional, reaching behind her for the doorknob, “We’ve got plenty that will more suit your fancy I’m sure,” 

The door squeaks a little, and Penelope takes a step backwards. 

“No!” Colin’s hasty yell echoes around the room. 

Penelope’s mouth grows dry, and she struggles to meet his eye. 

Colin untangles himself from the sheet, his eyes hooded and determined. 

Penelope finds her feet glued to the floor. 

He's somehow taller than she remembers. His chest is covered in light, dark hair, and she longs to brush her fingers through it. Instead she ties her fingers together and stares at the ground. 

She doesn't know why he's not asking her to leave. 

"Pen," Colin murmurs, his voice low and warm. 

His finger brushes under her chin and Penelope looks up on instinct. 

Then he's kissing her. Softly, pleasantly, like they have all the time in the world. Penelope's world has gone fuzzy. Usually she can think about nothing but a mans lips on hers, but Colin kissing her is like floating on air. On instinct she wraps her arms around his neck, and Colin growls bringing her closer to him. His tongue explores her mouth, and Penelope for a minute, forgets about her circumstance, their surroundings, and the fact that this is wrong, oh so wrong.... 

"Oh lord," Colin finally breaks away, breathing like he's run a marathon. Penelope brings one hand up to touch her lips where they're still tingling. 

He stares at her, his gaze heavy and warm. Penelope wets her lips, and Colin blinks once, twice and then three times. Determination fills his features and he takes a step away from her. She immediately feels the loss of his warmth. 

"I've... got to go," Colin runs a hand through his hair, leaning down hastily to pick up his shirt and coat.

Penelope nods blankly, doing the best to ignore the disappointment that fills her heart. 

"I'll be in contact alright," Colin says firmly, like they've just discussed serious business, not kissed furiously. 

"Sure," Penelope says blankly, not believing him. No doubt he's about to go find a bar to drink to forget. 

Colin gives her on last headed look, before he swings out of the room. 

Penelope sits her tired form on the bed, still not quite believing what just happened. It's one of the things she's always wanted. For Colin to look at her like she's... everything.

' _It wasn't real though_ ,' A condescending voice whispers patronizingly in her ear, 'He _paid for your services, remember? You're nothing to him, more than nothing_ ,'

A hot tear dribbles down Penelope's cheek, and she wipes it morosely away with the heel of her hand. 

"Featherington!" Mrs Lambersham's voice booms as she kicks the door open and storms into the room, "Mr Bridgerton has left, and taken _all_ his money with him,"

" _Oh_ ," Penelope says blankly. Her brain can't quite keep up. He paid. He turned away another girl. He kissed her. He left with his money? 

_What is going on?_

"Care to explain yourself?" Mrs Lambersham is as anger as a tiger, her face a bright red. 

"I can't," Penelope says hopelessly, truthfully, her hands pressed in her lap, Colin's cologne imprinted on her skin. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Next chapter is up!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Penelope dips the flannel back into the cold water. She gently wrings it out, before carefully placing it back on her mothers forehead. Portia Featherington stares up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Penelope has tried everything, but she can’t keep the fever away. 

“Pen-lope,” Portia croaks brokenly, her voice thin.

“I’m here Mama,” Penelope murmurs sadly, taking her hand. It’s thin and frail. Sometimes she feels as though she could crush it between her fingers. 

Portia makes a low sound in the back of her throat. Penelope doesn’t know if she can hear her or not. But she continues to speak to her like she can anyway. 

There’s a brief knock at their door. Penelope ignores it, to re-dampen the cloth. 

“Penelope?” Dottie’s voice calls out from down the stairwell. 

“Tell them I’m busy,” Penelope replies, not even bothering to turn away from her work, replacing the flannel on her mothers forehead. 

“It’s a gentleman, a _real_ one,” Dottie sounds nervous, her voice high and pitchy, “He won’t leave,” 

This causes Penelope to pause, her teeth on edge. Hardly ever, but still too often for Penelope’s liking, male visitors come knocking on their door asking for ‘favours’. Lords and Dukes are even less likely to leave than the dock men. They think their money means they can do whatever they please.

“I’m coming now,” Penelope replies tightly, pressing a light kiss on his mothers forehead.

She wipes her hands on her faded flowery dress, as she patters down the stairs. She’s tied up her red hair in a white bandana, and a slither of hair slips out and Penelope pushes it back behind her ear. 

Dottie is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her lips twisting apprehensively. The door is wide open. Colin stands there, for all the world to see, tapping his foot nervously on their door step. 

“Mr Bridgerton?” Penelope stops still on the final step of their rickety stairs, a cold step running over her. 

She remembers what he said last night, about keeping in touch. How could she ever forget? But Penelope didn’t think he actually meant it. And she certainly didn’t think she would be seeing him again so soon. 

“Miss Featherington,” Colin bows his head respectfully, swinging his top hat off his head, “May I come in?” 

Penelope clucks her tongue. 

On one hand this is clearly a terrible idea. 

But on the other, he’s smiling slightly at her, his eyes shining hopefully.

“Sure,” Penelope says with a tense smile, uncomfortably rolling her shoulders back. 

Colin nods gratefully, and steps into their cramped apartment, shutting the door behind him. 

“ _Pen_ ,” Dottie mumbles worriedly, turning back to give her a short shake of the head. 

“It’s fine Dot,” Penelope tells her assuredly, although honestly she’s not sure herself, “Colin is an… old friend,” 

It’s one way to put it. Dottie crosses her eyebrows. Penelope has told her she used to have a higher station in society. But she’s never quite told her _how_ high. 

If she told Dottie she once got presented to the Queen, Penelope isn’t even sure she’d believe her. 

She screws up her nose in a 'later' movement, before leading Colin away to their small greeting room, dining room and kitchen. 

Dottie watches Colin pass her like he's a piece of gold they've just dug up from under their rotting floorboards, and Penelope can tell from the expression on her face her friend desperately wants to listen from the door. She really hopes she can restrain herself. 

Penelope attempts to push all thoughts about Dottie spying, to observe Colin looking around the snug area. With it’s ceiling slightly too low for his head. Far from the opulence of Bridgerton's brilliant white lounge area, even Penelope’s family's old puke green sitting room, her current living space is dark, damp and dirty. 

Colin’s face stays perfectly still as he takes in their three spindly chairs, one small table, and the sooty fireplace. Penelope crosses her arms, daring him to make a judgement. None comes; but the sympathy in his blue eyes is almost worse. 

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Penelope asks, knowing Dottie only just heated the kettle. Something that used to come in dainty white china, now gets heated by Penelope's own hand and poured into a chipped cheap cup. 

“Yes, please,” Colin clears his throat, “That would be lovely,” He lingers near a chair, seeming to want to sit down, but not knowing if he should or not. 

Penelope chooses their least busted cups, and manages to pour two cups full without spilling any. Her hands are shaking for some stupid reason, and she can't seem to get them to stop. 

“Condensed milk fine?” Penelope asks airily. They can't afford milk. They can't afford anything that could perish. 

“Yes,” Colin sounds like he would agree with anything at this minute, “Of course,” 

Penelope pours in two dollops, and wonders if he's ever made his own tea in his life. 

“What are you _doing_ here Colin?” Penelope asks tiredly, passing over his cup making sure that their fingers don't brush. 

Colin sits himself awkwardly on a one of their chairs, which of course is far too small for him, his knees almost touching his chin. 

“Isn’t it enough that I wanted to see you?” Colin asks, setting his tea down carefully on the table as if he’s worried he’s going to break everything he touches. 

Penelope, in contrast, slams her cup down on the table, her already frayed nerves finally breaking. 

“No it’s not Colin!” Penelope hisses running her fingers repeatedly through her thread-worn skirt, “I haven’t seen you in years for a reason, a pretty huge reason,” She looks round at her circumstances obviously.

No doubt they both remember the time when he had come to call on Featherington’s and a butler took his card. But now Penelope’s the one who has to warily come to her door. 

Although it does make a change that he’s coming to see her instead of the beautiful Marina. 

Who is now his wife. 

Which begs the question- why is Colin here visiting her, Penelope, in the first place? Especially when it could easily lead to society looking down at him with judgmental eyes. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Colin apologises hastily, looking stricken, “I only felt I left you rather quickly last night,” 

Penelope opens her mouth, then shuts it again. She should be kicking him out. But she also thinks she deserves an explanation. 

“Fine,” Penelope says, kicking her stool irately, “Tell me why you almost lost me my job last night,” 

Colin’s eyes almost bulge out of his head. 

“I did what?” He stutters, his face turning pale. 

Penelope rolls her eyes so hard it hurts. What did he think was going to happen? Did his older brothers not teach him about brothel etiquette? 

“It’s safe to say my boss was not pleased that you left with all the money you’d already given us last night,” Penelope explains curtly. 

Mrs Lambersham almost had her head on a pike. If it weren't for the extra money she brought in by being Lady Whistledown she definitely would be thrown out on the streets. Now she’s on probation, or whatever that means. 

All Penelope knows is that Colin got her in a whole lot of mess for a kiss. 

“Penelope, I swear, I had no intention,” Colin stands up and tries to reach for her hand.

Penelope immediately steps nimbly out of the way, her cheeks flushing red. 

She is furious at him.

And furiously in love with him. 

Colin lets his empty hand adjust his waistcoat, looking just as miserable as she feels. 

“I took the money because I didn’t want you to think I only kissed you because I paid for it,” He finally says softly, his eyes blinking apprehensively, but honestly into hers. 

Penelope takes a short, quick breath in. For a moment she truly thinks her ears have betrayed her. But even after she waits for what feels like minutes, Colin is still standing in front of her, looking earnest and even a little afraid. 

“You’re… you’re crazy,” Penelope breathes, placing a hand to her suddenly clammy forehead. 

“No, _no_ I’m not,” Colin takes a step closer to her, and this time Penelope does not move, “Pen… I missed you,”

Penelope chokes back a laugh, which dies humorlessly on her lips. 

“You’re _married_ Colin,” Penelope clutches her arms around herself self-consciously, “To my cousin no less,” 

Sometimes she can still see the mad hope in Marina’s eyes when she gushed about them going to be practically _sisters_. 

“I remember,” Colin mutters, his face immediately darkening into a storm cloud.

Penelope rocks uncomfortably on her toes.

His marriage.

Clearly something that doesn’t bring him solace. 

“Penelope,” Colin asks, his gaunt face as stern as steel, “Did you know?” 

Penelope attempts to swallow, her throat suddenly scratchy and dry. 

“Know what?” She asks slowly, although she can’t help but have an inkling she knows exactly what he’s going to say. 

Colin takes another step and suddenly he’s in her personal space. Penelope’s breath hitches as she suddenly has to tilt her head up to look at him.

He’s got a blazing looking in his eye. Colin looks exactly like he did yesterday before he kissed her. 

“You took me aside once, warned me not to marry her,” Colin says painfully, his voice haunted by regret, “Did you know that she was already pregnant with another man's child?” He looks like he’s either about to cry or hit something.

Against her better judgement, Penelope reaches out to comfort him, pressing a soft hand against his forearm. Colin presses his trembling lips together, as he looks between her hand and her face. 

She can only imagine what Colin felt when Marina told him. Penelope hopes she had the decency to tell him as soon as they were married, and not reveal it to him on their marriage bed. Or, even worse, wait until Colin noticed. 

“I did,” Penelope admits carefully, hoping he doesn’t get just as furious at her. 

Colin lets out a breath, a long slow hiss like a snake. Penelope watches, heartbroken, as his face crumples. 

“I knew it,” Colin groans and he hangs his head, “God Pen, you must think me a terrible fool,” 

Penelope finds herself drawing ever closer to him. 

“You were a _boy_ Colin, in love-” Penelope begins tremendously. 

“In _lust_ you mean,” Colin finishes for her with a mean smile, his teeth flashing. 

Penelope bites her lip. 

What has happened to the joyful, playful Colin that she knew? How has he become this sad, defeated man? 

“Colin don’t be so hard on yourself,” Penelope drags her hand down to take his hand, squeezing it tightly, “You couldn’t have known… I should have tried harder to tell you I’m sorry,” 

Both of Colin's large hands enclose over hers. A huge wave of warmth rushes over her, and for a moment Penelope finds she can't breath. 

“You’re so good, Pen,” Colin whispers hoarsely.

Penelope finds herself subconsciously wetting her lips, and his fingers squeeze hers roughly. 

It's her fault. She moves forward. Or closes her eyes. Penelope honestly can't remember. She's far too busy. Colin's hand is pressed dangerously long on the curve of her spine, and the other is cupping her cheek.

Penelope's fingers are weakly grasping his coat lapels, as she struggles to move closer to him. He's so warm. He's kissing her with a ferocity that is almost knocking her over. She's up on her tiptoes to get better access, to his mouth, and she can taste his pleased smile. 

" _Oh_ ," Penelope groans, as Colin begins to kiss a trail of kisses down her neck, his stubble burning the line of her jaw.

"Yes," Colin murmurs, his voice dark with arousal. 

Her fingers are struggling to undo the outer layers of his clothing. Penelope can tell Colin likes this. In fact she's certain, judging by the erection pressing against her hip. 

It's then when Penelope suddenly realizes it's only midmorning, the windows of her small shack are wide open. 

“Colin,” Penelope gasps, using all her strength to push him away, “ _No_ ,” 

Her whole body is buzzing with longing for him. Yet she knows this is a bad idea. 

True she cannot fall any further. It’s not like she’s a maiden anymore that could be ruined from this. 

But to go any further… She would either be an 'thankful fuck'. Or a mistress. 

And Penelope doesn’t particularly like either of those options. 

He clearly cares for what she’s tried to do for him. But she'd rather Colin only kissed her because it's her job, than he had sex with her only because he feels _grateful._

And being his mistress… There would be benefits for sure. But Bridgerton’s men are known for leaving the rake life behind for the women they marry. They are loyal to the end. Penelope can’t see Colin being any different. 

She would be second best. As usual. 

“Why not?” Colin asks, panting. stepping closer. His face is red, and his irises are fully dilated. 

“I realise I have fallen in station, and that my job does not give me any favours” Penelope's words are tripping over themselves, “But I am not a women that you can pick up to merely put down again,” 

Colin looks like he wants to shake her. 

“Penelope I’m kissing you like this because I _want_ to,” Colin says far to clearly to be lying, but Penelope can't help but be mistrustful. 

Why; especially now, would he?

If he never wanted her while she was unattractive but rich, why would he want her while she's still unattractive and poor? 

“ _Why?_ ” Penelope asks, flinging her hands down irately. 

She swears Colin physically growls, like a dog, his hand rubbing irately at his neck. 

“Because I believe you are a woman I can trust, properly trust to be honest with me,” Colin says heatedly, his eyes gleaming, “And because I haven’t stopped thinking of you from the moment we kissed last night,” 

Penelope almost melts into a puddle. It's everything she's ever wanted to hear from him. Colin's mouth is still wet and red. She can still taste him on her tongue. 

But. And it's such a big but. 

Colin's _married_.

How would Penelope feel if she was the wife sitting at home and Colin was out visiting a fallen Marina? 

“I’m sorry,” Penelope squeezes her hands so hard her nails bite into her skin, “But I _can’t_ ,” 

“I understand,” Colin finally steps properly away, looking disappointed but resigned. 

Penelope stands, stuck, wishing she could feel different so she could take her words back. 

“If you ever change your mind,” Colin digs around in his coat, “Here is an address,” 

“Your home?” Penelope takes the card hesitantly. She can’t imagine the gossip that will come from her sneaking into his family's home. A servant who sees her slip through the back door. 

Actually, no, she can. Penelope certainly won’t be writing about it. But someone else might. 

“No,” Colin shakes his head, smiling wryly like he can read her thoughts, “Just a house,” 

Penelope frowns, taking a closer look at the address. It’s a house near Sienna’s old apartments. Where all the actresses live. The actresses who have rich men of station pay for their living expenses. 

Did he just happen to have a house in that street, or did Colin purchase it for _her?_

“I’ll be there tonight,” Colin says, not quite looking her in the eye, “I hope you’ll be there too,” 

“I’ll,” Penelope’s voice shakes; her conscience bids her not to, but she can’t deny her desire for him is strong, “I promise I’ll think about it,”

Her answer seems to satisfy him, and Colin pulls his clothes together. Penelope somehow managed to tear his cravat off his neck, and he messily attempts to tie it together again.

He snaps up his hat slowly, as if she's going to say something. But Penelope is only going to say something she regrets or nothing at all, so she's sticking with the latter. Colin gives her half a smile before he walks back out into the hall.

Penelope follows him to the door, with her tail between her legs. Butterflies are still pounding in her chest. It's like she's the bubbles in a bottle of champagne. She's certainly walking like she's drunk too much of it, her legs feels slow and heavy. 

“Good day Miss Featherington,” Colin bows, before throwing his hat back on his head, “I hope to see you very soon,” He says it so sincerely that Penelope half wants to follow him exactly this minute. 

She lets the door swing shut, to prevent herself from doing exactly that. 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Dottie immediately asks loudly from behind her, “Who _is_ he, Pen?” 

Penelope almost jumps out of her skin. Dottie appraises her seriously, her small, slight hands on her hips.

Does she look like she almost got ravished against the wall? 

“Colin Bridgerton,” Penelope answers against her better judgement, fanning her still flaming cheeks. 

“You mean…” Dottie cocks a slightly judgmental eyebrow, “The brother of Sienna’s ex’s? The Lord that broke her heart?” 

“Yes,” Penelope agrees breathlessly. 

Dottie presses her lips together, before opening them again with a small pop. Penelope buries her head in her hands with a defeated groan. 

“And he’s asked you to meet him?” Dottie grasps her shoulder with harsh grip, “Are you going to _go_?” 

All Penelope really wants to do is run upstairs and sleep for a thousand years. And if she doesn't go into work tonight she'll be let go almost certainly. 

Colin's lips where so hot against the skin of her neck, and it still burns where his stubble rubbed against it. 

“I don’t know,” Penelope whispers, the card with Colin's address on it turning into a mulched mess in her sweat stained palm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think!


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